by Olivia Kane
“Why are you whispering?” Lydia asked. “He can’t hear us.”
“Why must we hide?” Caroline Bingley asked pointedly.
“Because he will inherit Longbourn on my father’s death and he means to marry one of us as compensation, but he is not at all handsome or charming and so none of us will have him,” Lydia giggled. “Still, he intends to make an offer to one of us.”
“If we are speaking honestly, by my own estimation, it is only Jane that is in danger, as she was clearly Mr. Collins’ favorite. His gaze landed on her repeatedly throughout the afternoon,” Mary recounted.
“Mary, do be quiet,” Elizabeth hissed.
Jane shook her head at Mary but the damage was done. From the corner of her eye, she could see the Bingley sisters exchange meaningful glances and raise their eyebrows. Lydia, in a rare moment of quick thinking, sought to salvage the situation.
“Mary, I disagree. From my perspective, it was Lizzy whom Mr. Collins esteemed the most. He laughed the longest at all of her statements.”
“How lucky for you,” Caroline Bingley cooed to Elizabeth. “Do let us know as soon as the engagement is secured, as we want to be among the first to wish you joy. Or is it you, Miss Bennet, to whom we should be directing our congratulations?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes but her heart sank. It was a certainty that their intimate family problems would be retold with the accompanying histrionics to Bingley and Darcy.
What wicked chance that events should transpire so! If only they had stayed at home, Elizabeth fretted. It was bad enough to have to fend off Mr. Collins’ advances. Having the gossip spread to Bingley, who might misinterpret the situation, could only add to their misfortune.
The girls huddled at the window until they saw Mr. Collins enter his carriage and pull away. Elizabeth thought it odd to see him headed in the general direction of Longbourn, but said nothing to her sisters. Her mother had made no mention of another visit by Mr. Collins, but his home in Hunsford was in the opposite direction and recalling the determination her mother had in ordering them to leave the house that morning, an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach.
There was plotting going on, Elizabeth feared. Despite their uniform rejection of his application, she feared that as long as he remained in town none of them was safe.
She turned away from the window and, feeling anxious, considered her sisters, now dispatched throughout the store, naively ignorant to the storm clouds hanging over their futures. Despite their propensity to annoy, she could not wish the role of Mr. Collins’ wife on any of them.
Her mother, she suspected, did not feel the same.
Chapter 5
As Elizabeth predicted, the Bingley sisters found the morning’s encounter in the mercantile highly entertaining. Skilled in the art of gossip, Caroline Bingley waited until the entire party was comfortably settled in the Netherfield drawing room, with a robust log fire blazing and glasses of port in hand. She held back patiently, pretending to read, stealthily watching Darcy and Bingley exchange humdrum comments on the unpredictability of the day’s weather and the speed of their horses.
Presently, Mr. Darcy settled in his chair with his book and opened it. With one eye on his actions, she allowed him two turns of the page before addressing him. “Tell me, Mr. Darcy, when will you set off on your newest walk in scenic Hertfordshire?”
Mr. Darcy looked up, confused.
“Pardon me? I do not understand the nature of your inquiry,” he replied.
“Your new book I saw you with the other day. The updated Grey’s Guide to Hertfordshire.”
“Oh, yes, that. This week I hope to take one of the suggested routes.”
“How nice,” Mrs. Hurst piped in. “Mr. Hurst, you should join Darcy.”
“I would only slow him down,” Mr. Hurst predicted.
“Hertfordshire is astonishingly scenic,” Mr. Bingley piped in.
“The landscape or the young ladies?” Caroline teased.
Mr. Bingley colored at her comment but being used to her teasing, took no offense. “Both. The hills and valleys are scenic and one or two of the young ladies are some of the most beautiful of my acquaintance.”
“Do not be coy, Charles. Your affection for Miss Jane Bennet is no secret here,” Mrs. Hurst chided him.
“Yes, it is her I refer to, but also her sister Elizabeth as well.”
The Bingley sisters laughed outright.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I saw her today and again, I am not able to pinpoint exactly why she is considered a beauty,” Caroline observed. “What say you regarding their beauty, Mr. Darcy? Miss Jane Bennet you thought smiled too much, and I believe you would rather stare at one of Hertfordshire’s many old trees than at the face of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Did you not describe her looks as merely tolerable?”
Mr. Darcy put his book down. “I did say that on first acquaintance but do no longer feel the same. I have been meditating on the matter at length recently and believe that the fineness of her eyes enhances her natural prettiness.”
“Prettier than an old tree?” Mr. Hurst cried out, laughing at his own joke.
“You have been meditating on Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” Mrs. Hurst asked in surprise.
“I meditate on a variety of topics over the course of my day,” Mr. Darcy informed her.
“Meditate on her low connections while you are at it,” Caroline said sharply, an edge of jealousy in her tone she was not conscious of. “You’ve seen their mother and father and their uncle is an attorney.”
“I have heard they have family that resides in Cheapside,” Mrs. Hurst added.
“Easter Sunday spent in Cheapside! Think of it! A glimpse of your future, Mr. Darcy,” Caroline goaded him.
“Pray tell me why their low connections are of interest to me?” Darcy said coolly. “I said I was meditating, not crafting an offer of marriage.”
Bingley, who thoroughly objected to the way the conversation was going, exclaimed, “As for Miss Jane Bennet, I have never met a woman where both sweetness of temper and beauty exist in such perfect balance. I reject society’s stricture that I must seek the company of a dull young lady because her uncle has high connections and snub the more captivating ladies with lower ones.”
“You may do as you like, Bingley. But they are only speaking the truth when they say that their low connections will affect their prospects. It is a known fact,” Darcy said.
Caroline Bingley heartened to hear Darcy regain his senses.
She turned to Darcy. “Then I shall not be wishing you joy?”
“Do not be ridiculous,” he said. “I have no patience for ridiculousness.”
“We need not worry about the Bennet girls,” Mrs. Hurst piped in. “For we have word that one of them, Jane or Elizabeth, may soon be accepting an offer of marriage.”
Upon hearing this, Bingley imagined he had misheard his sister, as a more foreign-sounding statement could not have passed her lips. He sat there motionless, the happy world in which he dwelled suddenly in danger of collapse.
“Who knew that Miss Jane Bennet, while all smiles for our brother, had another suitor in her pocket all the time?” Caroline exclaimed.
“Did she?” Darcy asked. “I was under the impression that Mrs. Bennet was spreading the news hither and yon of Miss Bennet’s imminent betrothal to your brother.”
Bingley cleared his throat. “Do you know who the gentleman is?”
Caroline tried to remember the man’s name, but her mind drew a blank. “No. I believe he has most recently come to town.”
She then proceeded to recite the morning’s chance encounter with glee. “We met the Bennet sisters quite by accident today in the mercantile. While there, they were all atwitter as their suitor was spotted on the street. One of the sisters, I don’t know all their names as there are so many of them, saw him out the window and called us all over.
“So we huddled like a gaggle of hens to catch a glimpse of him. Alas, he had passed by before I could see him.
In all the excitement, his name escaped me. I am terrible with country folk names, they go in one ear and out the other.”
Mrs. Hurst said, “I remember. His name was Cullen,” she replied. “Or Cowling.” She shook her head and scowled. “Mr. Cullen or Mr. Cowling. Something with a C.”
“Cullen or Cowling. I do not know anyone by that name,” Bingley said with a flat tone. The spirit had suddenly gone out of him.
A silence settled over the room. Bingley, who could converse for long periods of time about nothing at all, was suddenly speechless. Darcy duly withdrew his attention and resumed reading. Mr. Hurst fell promptly asleep against his wife’s shoulder and she, in turn, was compelled to remain motionless so as not to disturb him.
Caroline surveyed the room.
Another tedious evening in Hertfordshire with us all sitting like lumps on logs, she thought. How she longed for a ball peopled with elegant London society that would increase the odds of her brother falling in love with an eager heiress. Equally satisfying would be a dinner at Darcy’s London townhouse, with his sweet sister Georgiana in attendance. Either way, it was past time she removed her brother from the cloying company of Miss Jane Bennet.
For herself, she would appreciate the attention of a suitor of her own. Someone, anyone, to rouse Darcy out of his complacency and force him to make a bid for her.
How she pined for Darcy and how little he cared!
Nevertheless, there was so much more to be accomplished in the city yet there they sat, night after night, wasting away their precious youth out in the hinterlands. It was time for a change.
“To London, then?” she said cheerily.
“I vote in favor,” Darcy said. “You must all stay with me,” he said graciously, with the faint hint of a smile.
“It’ll be good for you, Charles. It will give you some perspective,” Caroline urged.
“And some fresh faces,” Darcy added.
“I do long for London. I shudder at the thought of a country winter,” Mrs. Hurst said.
Outnumbered, Bingley could only nod his head in agreement.
“The day after tomorrow, then, for our departure?” Caroline pressed.
“I will send a post to London and tell them to expect us,” Darcy said, returning his attention to his literature. Caroline grinned triumphantly. Netherfield Park was looking decidedly shabby, she thought. She wouldn’t miss it, or its neighbors, one bit.
Chapter 6
The next day, Bingley declared his resolution to make an afternoon call at Longbourn. Conscious of his friend’s disappointment, Mr. Darcy would not allow him to make the trip alone.
“Nonsense. I do not mind accompanying you,” Darcy insisted. “The horses need the exertion no matter what the destination.”
“Thank you, good friend,” Bingley smiled weakly.
Bingley’s natural good humor remained subdued. Nonetheless, he would not leave Hertfordshire without one last call to Miss Jane Bennet. If she were on the verge of accepting an offer from the mysterious Mr. Cullen, it was better to know.
He confessed his motivation to Darcy, who advised him to let Miss Bennet’s demeanor be his guide. “With another suitor in the mix, diffidence toward you on her end may be her way of signaling her preference. Would you mind if I observe her countenance as well and offer you my opinion afterward?”
Bingley was buoyed by, and appreciative of, his friend’s protective nature. His sisters alleged to have only his best interest at heart but, in his opinion, their true motive was to control the company he kept with an eye toward bettering their own place in society. Darcy’s protectiveness, he believed, sprang from better intentions.
Darcy said, “I advise we not speak of our London plans. There is no polite way to say that we have tired of the neighborhood. We can send word of our whereabouts later.”
“Will Miss Bennet not wonder at the secrecy?”
“A sudden departure is always grounds for gossip. However, I find it is always simpler to keep my plans close to the chest until they come to fruition.”
Bingley nodded. Ever since they first met and bonded at university, Darcy had always been the model of excellent comportment. Bingley found it universally satisfying and beneficial to follow his lead, especially where ladies were concerned. Leaving Meryton suddenly, with no warning, was probably best.
# # #
At the conclusion of their secret meeting, Mrs. Bennet sent Mr. Collins back to Rosings with strict instructions to grow a beard and eat less, convincing him that these slight alterations to his appearance would have a positive effect on her girls. In return, she promised to browbeat Jane and Elizabeth into adopting a more favorable opinion of him.
She immediately began to uphold her end of the bargain.
“Oh Jane, it will not be so bad! Rosings Park is the height of elegance, and I hear the society in Kent is of the highest sort as well. You will meet more people of quality there than at Netherfield,” Mrs. Bennet argued as they sat in the Longbourn dining room at luncheon.
Jane blushed a deep rose and swallowed imperceptibly. Conflict was abhorrent to her nature; defying her mother’s wishes a source of great discomfort.
“I am not so sure, Mamma. I don’t think that I could have any of the necessary feelings for Mr. Collins,” she said.
“The only necessary feelings are empathy for me and my situation. Do you want me to end up on the streets when Mr. Bennet is dead?” she whined in a harsh tone. “If you don’t lock down Bingley’s offer very soon then I insist you at least consider Mr. Collins. He is very taken with you.”
Jane, docile by nature, became alarmed at the intensity of her mother’s emotions and drew back from responding. Never before had her mother raised her voice at her specifically; Jane’s mind could not react quickly enough to formulate a response and tears pooled in her pretty eyes. Quickly, she looked down at her plate, concentrating intently on the tiny bones in her fish.
Elizabeth sat in stunned silence, her fists balling the napkin in her lap. Surely her mother was not seriously going to insist Jane throw over Bingley for Mr. Collins? Briefly, Elizabeth considered casting herself at Mr. Collins’ feet just to rescue Jane, but her impulse to martyrdom faded quickly.
Mary said serenely, “Please, Mamma. Let us not argue, for the Lord who provides for the sparrow, will surely provide a solution for your widowhood.”
Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips and said, “He has provided for me in the form of Mr. Collins and Our Lord would be very pleased if one of you would find something to like about him.” She stabbed at the butter and attacked her bread with it. “I only insist on Mr. Collins as there are no other offers. If there were other offers I dare say I would refuse Mr. Collins easily.” She stared at Jane as she spoke.
The remainder of the luncheon was completed in silence. Afterward, Mrs. Bennet left the house in a great huff to call on Lady Lucas. She did not invite any of her daughters to accompany her, as she set out on the call specifically to complain about their stubbornness.
“It does seem cruel that Mamma is so determined,” Kitty stated as they sat in the drawing room afterward with greatly depleted spirits.
“I will never find anything to love about Mr. Collins,” Lydia declared. “And what if Mamma dies first and Pappa outlives her for decades? Then what? To be married to Mr. Collins in a rush for no good reason?”
“I never thought of that,” said Mary. “As there is no guarantee Pappa will go to his grave first then we must all proceed with caution. Although we might decide together that the necessity of keeping Longbourn in the family must take precedence over our individual desires to find more pleasing matches with time. We could draw lots.”
“No,” came the reply in unison.
“Mr. Collins is not the only option for helping Mamma. She is right in that regard. Perhaps if Jane could marry Mr. Bingley? There are surely enough rooms in Netherfield Park for her to stay when the time comes,” Kitty reasoned.
A soft sobbing sound emanated from
the corner of the room. Jane, disconsolate, was unable to conceal her sorrow, and she broke down.
“Jane!” Elizabeth flew to her sister to console her. “This conjecture is upsetting you.” Admonishing her sisters she said, “Let us hold our tongues lest Jane be overcome.”
“No, it is just the talk of Mr. Bingley and Netherfield,” Jane said, looking up with a tear-streaked face. “Nothing is settled with him; such assumptions that we are definitely to marry make me feel a fool.”
Kitty hastened to gain Jane’s forgiveness.
“I am sincerely sorry,” Kitty said, walking over to Jane to soothe her. She dabbed her handkerchief on Jane’s cheeks and hugged her.
“Now let me make it up to you with some of my sugared almonds. Wait while I go upstairs to fetch them.” Kitty walked determinedly out of the drawing room. Jane sighed several times and tried to arrange her expression into a convincing smile. But the quarrelsome morning had dampened Jane’s genial nature beyond a quick repair.
“Perhaps I might rest for a little while in my room,” Jane said softly, when the sound of hooves on the drive took them all by surprise. Lydia was first to the window.
“Gentlemen callers!” she announced. “It’s Mr. Bingley and his abominably rude friend Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth considered Jane’s red-rimmed eyes with apprehension. It would not be right to refuse their callers but their timing was unfortunate. She hastened to the water pitcher to pour a few drops on her handkerchief and then moistened Jane’s cheeks and forehead as best she could. Her ministrations made Jane laugh causing Elizabeth to laugh along with her.
“Do I look utterly miserable?” Jane whispered, widening her teary eyes and dabbing the tip of her nose with her handkerchief.
“No,” Elizabeth consoled her. “And it’s Mr. Darcy coming to call. Compared to him you will be the height of gaiety. But for Bingley’s sake do try …”
Smiling, Jane grasped Elizabeth’s hand and squeezed it.
“Oh, Lizzy!”
Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand and smiled encouragingly.
“It’s Mr. Bingley, not Mr. Collins. We must be grateful for that,” Elizabeth whispered.